


Old Friends (Lead and Gold Remix)

by Unforgotten



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Canon Disabled Character, Future Fic, M/M, Post-Canon, Proposals, Remix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-27
Updated: 2015-06-27
Packaged: 2018-04-06 11:58:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4220871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unforgotten/pseuds/Unforgotten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles has no objection to marrying Erik, but he does have one small quibble about the ring.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Old Friends (Lead and Gold Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cerberusia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerberusia/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Old Friends](https://archiveofourown.org/works/327565) by [Cerberusia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerberusia/pseuds/Cerberusia). 
  * In response to a prompt by [Cerberusia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerberusia/pseuds/Cerberusia) in the [remixmadness2015](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/remixmadness2015) collection. 



"You cannot," Charles says, "you absolutely cannot be serious."

Erik draws himself up. His face shutters, his eyes grow cold. It's the same expression he wore on the beach so many long years ago. "You don't want to."

For a long time after he'd finally learned what that expression meant, Charles thought that if he'd said the right things that day, Erik might not have gone at all. Since then, he's decided, or he's learned, or both, that Erik always would have left him, whether then or later. The things that kept them apart for so long could only ever have changed with time, the persistence of waves upon the shoreline.

Now, Charles feels no particular need to panic just because Erik is looking at him like this, just because Erik is hurt. Erik hasn't turned his heel, hasn't walked away. He hasn't so much as closed his hand, where the ring remains, shining dully in the light of Charles' bedside lamp.

Charles folds his hands above the blanket. He wishes it weren't so difficult to look serene in one's pajamas, when one hasn't shaved off the wisps of hair on the sides of one's head in a week or so thanks to summer vacation. "I didn't say I didn't want to marry you. I said you can't be serious about the _ring_."

Erik considers this for a long moment, then thaws enough to ask, somewhat gruffly, "What's wrong with it?"

Charles reaches over, picks it up. It's warm, whether from Erik's skin or Erik's pocket or Erik's gift. It's not gold, not silver, not platinum. It's not even one of Erik's favorites, the ferromagnetic metals, iron or nickel or cobalt. If Charles has never held this particular piece of lead before, never even realized Erik still had it, he's felt its impact every day of his life for the past fifty years.

"You feel guilty enough as it is," Charles says. "You want me to wear this? Why? So you can feel guilty for the last ten or twenty years of your life as well?" Erik's guilt has colored every one of their meetings in some way—especially their lovemaking. It's faded over time, the same way Charles' own anger and grief has faded, but unlike Charles, Erik has never been able to let it go. This would be a tangible reminder for him, when Charles has never even had a scar, has never been marked outside of the thinness of his legs, the extra strength of his arms, his shoulders. "No, Erik. Go make me a proper ring. Then come back and ask me again."

Erik frowns. He seems to be done trying to freeze Charles out, at least. "It's not about that," he says.

"Oh? Well, then, what is it about?" Charles could look, of course, but so often what people are thinking isn't even close to what they want to get across. Words mean so much more than he would have believed as a young man.

Erik considers, another moment which stretches out long. "That's not it," he says finally, as if it's being dragged out of him. If he had his way, he'd have Charles read everything out of his mind, and blame him when he gets it wrong. "It's not a bullet. Not anymore. It's been remade. Don't you see?"

"Remade," Charles repeats. "Like us, you mean."

"Yes."

Charles looks at the ring again. There's no denying how much they've changed, how much the world has changed around them. They're not the young men they were together, Charles' hope boundless and Erik's anger an inferno that seared whoever came too close. Charles' optimism now is limited by experiences of the past which inform the future. Erik's anger is dampened, controlled, a tool he can use instead of letting it use him.

"I'm not going to wear this," Charles says, offering the ring back. "I have no objections to your wearing it, if you want to."

"But—"

"I want a gold ring. And I want our initials inside the band. I'll leave the rest of the design up to you."

" _Charles_."

Now Erik just looks annoyed, but Charles doesn't stop. If he does, he's going to start crying instead, and he's already decided that if he's going to weep today, he's going to do it down at the Clerk's Office, in his chair and wearing a suit, not in bed in his pajamas. "Meet me back here in three hours. We'll drive into town together."

For a moment, Erik looks as though he's going to argue some more. Then his eyes go soft as he changes tracks, quickly as he always has. "You're saying yes."

"Well, I'm not sure you've properly asked me yet, but yes." Charles swallows back the lump in his throat, pretends he doesn't see the brightness in Erik's eyes. "All right. Let's get married."


End file.
